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frustration

From Chloe: We went to bed fairly late last night after many rounds of “Cards Against Humanity” with friends. I was still a bit keyed up. Tired, but energized too. john on the other hand seemed sleepy. We entangled ourselves within the covers and I knew right away that I would be using him for sex. That is what I wanted… sex. A big cum, a big stretch, and a good sleep. He would be my fucktoy and I used him for exactly that.

Of course he was denied any hope of having a cum himself. He struggled with his composure, and my grinding and squeezing didn’t seem to help much. I wanted silence. I wanted to concentrate on my own thoughts, my own desires. He was ordered to be exactly what I wanted him to be… a silent, obedient, hard, thrusting cock that I would use and then toss aside when I was finished.

And pretty much, this is what I got. He had a few minutes of challenge, unable to fuck the way I wanted him to fuck, but eventually, he got the job done. When I was done riding those last, few blissful waves, he asked me for permission to beg to be allowed to cum. I slowly smiled, expecting this request from him. I granted permission, and he started to ask permission in whispered tones. I was not impressed. This was not begging. This did not sound desperate. It was far too polite and tame for my tastes.

I was harsh with him, practically growling at him to beg in earnest. Dammit, if he wanted a cum, then he had better earn the opportunity for me to even consider such a thing.

And so he did. I pulled him deep within me, started ordering him to fuck me deeper and harder, and demanded that he show me how hungry he was. He did… I could hear that desired quivering in his voice where composure and grit meet and clash. I wanted this from him. I wanted to hear it in his voice.

I told him no. I told him ‘absolutely, NO!’ There would be no cumming for him tonight. There would be no cumming for him for a long, long time. I told him the truth that he loves/hates to hear… that cumming for him is not something that will happen.

He whimpered. And I smiled. And my smile spread the more he whimpered.

I didn’t know that a smile could be heard. Not seen, but heard. And it was true, I was smiling at his discomfort. He told me as much. “I can hear your smile”, he said quietly, reaching over to feel my face, confirming his suspicion. It made me smile more… harder, louder.

And I thought about that… hearing a smile. I was smiling at his despair. I was smiling at his struggle. I was smiling because he is this beautiful puppet on my scratchy string, and I smile because he loves being there. I smile at his honesty about loving to hate what he loves and hates. It’s the denial. It’s the chase. It’s the power. It’s as though he gives me this gift of his desire for safe keeping, and I abuse it. I abuse him. I crumple up his requests in my fist and toss them aside. Doing so makes me smile. And my smiling makes him happy.

From john:What Madame wrote is all completely true in all its delightful playfulness.

We did retire to bed and I was sleepy. I had been in service all night. Making cocktails, serving food, cleaning up, doing my best to serve all of our friends. I knew she was pleased. And it probably brought us back from my rocky waking from our afternoon nap (I was cranky when I woke). So I took my cranky self and poured it into just serving my owner and our guests and we had a lovely wonderful time. Everyone was having simply beautiful warm house gathering. Nothing too loud, nothing too over the top. No big meal, just a bunch of small plates and beautiful cocktails. And then some Cards – which I never seem to do well with.

But we retired to our bed after the guests had left and roommates retreated to their own bedrooms. I cleaned up the bedroom as I waited for roommates to do their bathroom time, then finished off my night doing my bathroom tasks, returning to find her beautiful self all cuddled up among the seven pillows, the warmth of the electric blanket having warmed the bed from corner to corner and giving her a cozy cocoon to nest into.

I came sleepily to the side of the bed, collared myself and slipped to her side, but she was, as she indicated, still a little wired and soon I found myself kneeling in front of her and cleaning her while she lay back. She reached down to find out the status of her cock and with some disappointment in her voice asked “Isn’t he happy to be unlocked?”

“Of course, Ma’am. I’m just focused on my duties…” I mumbled out from between her legs.

“Get in there deeper” she told me as I cleaned her. “Stick it in there.” These words had their effect – the effect she knew she’d have on me. Soon her hand was grasping a full and hard cock. She directed my oral attention to her pussy now “Get it wet, nice and wet”. Her hand left my cock and grabbed at my head, pulling my hair and pulling me away from her pussy and down into the proper position for her to be fucked in just the way she wanted.

I lay back on the bed on my side, my legs entwined with hers, my cock positioned at her opening where she opened up to me and pulled me deeply with her leg. We both paused and just enjoyed the feeling of being coupled again, entwined, tangled, her enjoying the full feeling and I enjoying the beautiful warmth and grip of her. Her hand danced over her pussy and rubbed her clit in the way only she can find. She directed my fucking, ordering me to fuck her deeper and harder. I resisted, not out of disobedience but because I would not be able to keep from cumming if she persisted. Several minutes into this teasing, I started talking to her, complimenting her. Thanking her for letting me into her beautiful pussy, telling her how much I love to watch her cum, to be used by her and be part of pleasure. I think some of my words helped her, but she shushed me and just had me fuck her.

This is the nature of it, where I’ll be an itchy trigger finger in the first few minutes of sex, then I’ll get past it and be able to service her more suitably. Now I was able to be used by her more aggressively, more soundly. I fucked her as she wished, pushing deeply into her and grinding with her. Her fingers still danced, her hips ground, I fucked, she came. A nice big beautiful slowly built orgasm, all toppling down and around us both, falling in pieces on the bed and around the bed. She acknowledged my efforts… something like “Now that was a good fuck.”

“May I beg?” I meekly inquired.

“Oh, pup, you may.”

And so I did, sliding deep into her and asking “Please may I cum?”

And it was as she wrote, I didn’t start with earnest begging. But soon, my arousal increasing while she was still in the afterglow of her own pleasure, I was desperate to cum. She answered all my pleading with all the answers I expected. “Of course you’d clean it up!” “That’s only if I let you.” “Why should you spill?” “The only cum you’ll get is Marks as he fucks your throat.” “You’re hardly what I would call begging.” all these responses to drive my arousal, to hear me whimpering. That’s when I heard it. I whimpered, like a dog, with some words around the whimper, but the whimper is what she wanted. She had driven me into a desperate state and denied me and all to get me to this place – where I would be inside her, desperate to cum, yet denied and emit that whimper that she loves.

“I can hear you smiling.” I said. Her smiled grew – I heard it. I absolutely heard it. And it was almost as if she didn’t believe me. But I knew I was right and that she was still taking her pleasure from me. In telling me “no” while teasing me, that orgasm of hers carried on – pleasure from a different stimulus now. My cock throbbed, she smiled, she denied, she pulled me in with her leg.

I pulled out quickly “No! no no no no no no no” I lay back away from her, “no no no no no ” I hoarsely whispered. She knew I was at the ultimate edge. Without exaggeration, this was where a single word from her or a touch from her could send me over. I held my body tight, taut, tensed, I held my PC muscle as tightly as I could. The orgasm cycle was spinning up and relaxing would let it flow, so I held the muscle tightly. It felt like several minutes that I held the pose. Arched back, tight loins, breathing in short stabbing breaths, all waiting for it to slow.

Finally I was able to relax, loosening the PC, loosening my back, laying back, my cock throbbed and pulsed and a small dribble appeared on the head.

“Closest ever” I muttered. She knew it too. There were times where I had fallen off that edge. There were times when I was not quite to that pinnacle. But this, this one was a new peak. And she smiled. And she laughed. And she enjoyed torturing me, enjoyed using me and things were not over with her orgasm- after she had used me. Things were only over after she abused me too – tortured and teased me. Taken me all the way up and then watching me come crashing down in frustrated throbbing and begging. It wasn’t over until she was smiling and pulling me into her to spoon her, my hard cock nestled into her ass cheeks and to not feel release, but to feel her warm body in front of me as we drifted to sleep.

I get anger over work issues. It’s exceptionally frustrating at work sometimes. I work in the non-profit sector. I deal with other people in other companies and I deal with lots of people inside our company. And I have a boss. And he has a boss. I am responsible for scheduling in my department – scheduling that MUST occur. Nobody can be missing. And I get all the excuses, reasons, requests, desires, etc. And then there are reasons why people need me to change staffing. We have X project or Y event and I’m the one that needs to wrangle people. And people are a fucking pain in the ass, often. But I also handle some automation. And it usually works without a hitch. Until the people (you remember the people, right?) start fucking with it… I also have people in other groups poking at things which make my world harder. It’s quite the balance and usually I make it happen and all is well. It has not been all well for a while.

In my family world, things have been shook up. I’ve discovered a long lost relative which presents me with some big questions and possibly some even harder truths that might be at hand. I’m sorry to “vague blog”, but I don’t know if all the detail is necessary. But it makes me feel like some of my family may have been terribly abused and it puts me at odds. I’m angry about it and I’m also showing some depression from it. I’m not getting into a deeper clinical depression, but just a depression that let’s itself be known and puts me in a down mindset. Chloe knows. She knows the reason. And I think she knows that I just have to work through it.

And to be honest, I think that the current political climate in Washington and our new President has put a few shovel fulls of depression into my world. It’s hard for me to grasp some of the things that he and his appointees and the general public are pressing. Completely illogical reasoning on doing some of the things and people just going along with it. The demise of intellectual conversation and the deeper divisions being dug between the sides. The disappearance of science. The degradation of fact. The whitewashing of history. All of this adds to my frustration and feeling of helplessness.

With all this, it’s not an easy place to be for a submissive. I know that it’s affecting our life. I know it’s affecting our interactions. I am thrilled to have Chloe’s love, affection and support, now more than ever. I could retreat into a super full service mode, but then Chloe loses her companion in me. I could withdraw completely from her, but then Chloe loses her service and that adds to my depression. I think she has been dealing with it well. She is giving me space on social activities, letting me spend some time with myself and with an occasional game or just getting away. She’s also doing some little things to remind me of our dynamic. As I write this in the nearby coffee shop, I am wearing the panties she selected for me this morning and left on the bed. The taste of her nether regions was only recently washed away with some Chai and some food, as she woke me to her pussy hovering over my face this morning.

And all this also affects my other relationships. Someone hoping to talk to me about an upcoming event has not been contacted and I’m almost afraid to reach out to the long lost relative because of “what I know” and what they “do not know”. I’m being kind of “Benzite-ian” (Star Trek TNG) in my approach with some of this family stuff, not divulging some things without having all the detail and a possible solution – though I know there may not be a solution – just a lot of information to share. But I want all the information before I share. And it affects my volunteer efforts as well, causing me to procrastinate on them for fear of failure which will only bring about failure. Yeah, not helping myself out.

So, I’m at a loss. No, I’m really not. I’m not at a loss. I’m a little depressed, I’m a bit angry about some stuff and I’m frustrated as hell. I’m not worried about any sexual frustration – as that’s NOT a problem, in fact, sexual activity has also been not in the forefront of my mind either, though I try.

These are all first world problems (except Washington – that can easily affect 2nd and 3rd worlds). I really have nothing proper to complain about. So, I can try to be more positive, get off this train of anger and frustration and kick my own ass out of depression before it goes deeper. It’s not a terrible set of circumstances. I’m terribly fortunate overall and grateful for that.

Let’s see how the weekend goes. I’m optimistic and hopeful. Who knows, maybe Chloe will take me for a walk in the woods to acquire naked January. ;)

She’s been gone since Friday and I’ve been locked since then. I haven’t ejaculated since September 23rd, though I’ve had orgasms since then. But orgasms without ejaculation do nothing to stem the tide of arousal. They’re great, feel wonderful and are oh so amazing, but damn it, I’m still horny after one.

Pressure builds

And now, at home, alone, no Mistress, no key, already horny. I decide I’ll do more chores. First, outside, I rake the leaves, dressed in only my slave pants and a t-shirt. Then I come inside and clean the tub, naked and plugged. Like I cleaned up the mudroom yesterday, also plugged. And with the roommate gone, I’m wandering around naked doing other chores too. Because, well, I can be naked!

And here I am, having been plugged and horny and wet in the shower. I was shown earlier today a picture of another woman wearing the key to my chastity device around her neck, dangling between her breasts. My Mistress has the other key, in Central America or on some cruise ship miles at sea, I last saw THAT one around HER neck. I’m set to be loaned out for the pleasure and amusement of the other woman Thursday, as she is traveling nearby and we have a relationship of friendship and play. And one of previous service, where I was sold to her for a weekend at the mere price of 30 pieces of silver. My Mistress left one real order for that encounter – don’t let him cum. But other than that, outside our normally negotiated limits, there are none. And I have the strong feeling I’ll be put to service – hard service – teased and then locked right back up and sent back to my Mistress. If I even get unlocked.

It’s all almost exactly what I want in my world of sexual service. And I’m horny beyond all thinking about all of it. I so desperately want out of the cage. I so want to cum. I want to spew. I want cum dripping off the fucking ceiling. I am ready to blow, so completely, so hard, so violently. And. I. Know. I. Can’t! It’s not going to be possible. I am pathetically horny.

But that’s okay, what do I do? I share text messages with another potential partner who wants to play and I talk about plunging my cock into her. Because I’m not horny enough yet. I might just be my own worst enemy. And I might be my worst torturer. Damn it.